


Bad Girl Lately

by xfandomwritingsx



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-08-22 07:24:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16593449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfandomwritingsx/pseuds/xfandomwritingsx
Summary: After a dirty dream, you can’t stop thinking about Bucky.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing Bucky so cut me some slack. I also basically shoved what should have been a slow burn story into this two parter, so expect some glazing over of some details and some telling instead of showing.

“C’mon, doll. What do you want?” his voice is low, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. The weight of his body presses you into the mattress and you can feel him grinding against you, your legs already wrapped around his waist. His teeth nip gently at your ear. “Need to hear you say it, doll.”

You open your mouth to answer him, to tell him exactly what you want him to do, but all that comes out is a strangled moan. You grip at his back, feel your nails rake down his skin before locking your ankles at his waist and pulling your bottom half up to rock against him.

You’re not entirely sure where either of your clothes have gone, but you’re wet and you slide easily along his hard cock. Your core is aching and all you want is to feel him fill you up. God, he feels so good.

“Please,” you beg, voice dry and cracking. He chuckles into your neck, shifting his hips so no matter how you try to angle yourself, he won’t slide into you.

“Please what?” he teases. Your hands slip up to his shoulders and into his hair.

“Please fuck me, Bucky.” He lifts his head up and it’s the first time you really see him, his lips smirking down at you, face red, and eyes lustful. Three things suddenly happen at once. His lips crash down onto yours, he thrusts into you, and you open your eyes.

You’re met with only darkness and the echo of your broken moan. You’re hot, body slick with sweat and hands gripping at your bedsheets. It takes you nearly thirty seconds for you to get your bearings and fully realize you had been dreaming. Your heart is thudding with leftover excitement and you can still feel that ache between your legs.

“What the hell?” you whisper to yourself, wiping a hand over your face. You twist your body in your bed, trying to shake it off. Your thin t-shirt sticks to your skin and when you roll over, the cold air hits you making you shiver.

It’s not like you haven’t had sexy dreams before. You’ve definitely had your fair share, but they hadn’t been that vivid before and more than that, they’ve never starred Bucky Barnes before. You try to stop thinking about it, the craving feeling of needing to be touched slowly fading from your body as you close your eyes and settle back into your bed comfortably.

When morning rolls around, your body is still buzzing, still excited, and there’s a distinct dissatisfaction filling you. You groan as you roll yourself out of bed. You push back all thoughts of your dream and slip some sweatpants on to leave your room and get yourself breakfast.

It’s still early. You tend to be one of the first one’s awake in the tower anymore. Something you can actually blame Bucky for. After Steve had moved him into the tower, you two had formed a friendship. It had been timid and fragile at first, only simple greetings and small conversations in common spaces. You were a little weary of him at first, as was most everyone else, but you tried to reserve judgement and got to know him little by little. He never said it, but you think he appreciated your welcome no matter how skeptical and he didn’t seem to mind the conversation and company.

There had been one night where you couldn’t sleep. You just had a lot on your mind and your body was restless, unable to settle down. So instead of tossing and turning, you chose to leave your room and wander the tower. It only slightly surprised you when you found Bucky in one of the upper sitting rooms staring out one of the floor to ceiling windows.

“Hey you,” you called out softly, careful not to startle him.

“Little late for you to be up, isn’t it?” He looked at you only briefly, but you saw the tiredness in his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you told him, plopping yourself down on one of the couches. You figured if he didn’t want the company, he’d leave himself or just tell you. “I take it you can’t sleep either?” He stiffened a little and you wondered if maybe you overstepped.

“More like I don’t want to,” he answered, not taking his gaze from the window. You were happy to leave it at that and move on or even just sit in silence, but he surprised you by speaking again. “Rather be awake than have the nightmares.” It was no secret that Bucky had bad nightmares, hell, most people in the tower had nightmares about one thing or another, but Bucky’s were a touchy subject. It was one of those things everyone knew about, but didn’t talk about.

“Do you have them every night?” You watched him carefully, waiting for any signs that your prying was not welcome or that he wasn’t going to answer. Instead though, he opened up to you that night.

He didn’t share much about what the nightmares consisted of, but he told you about their frequency and the things that made them just a little better. He ended up joining you on the couch and to lighten things up, you had thrown your legs over his lap. He raised an eyebrow at you, but didn’t show any displeasure.

“Does it help if someone wakes you up?” you asked, wiggling a little to get more comfortable.

“It would, but no one does.” He put his hands on your shins to still you. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table, silently enjoying that Stark wasn’t there to scold him for it. “Probably for the better anyways. Who knows how I would react. With my luck, I’d hurt them.” You watched him tense his metal hand, crunch it into a fist and release it. You nudge him with your foot, taking his focus off of it.

“I kicked Tony in the stomach once when he woke me after a mission,” you shared, trying to keep the mood light, afraid he was going to suddenly withdraw and bolt otherwise. You both chuckled a little.

“He probably deserved it.” His metal hand settled back down on your leg and it was somewhere around then that your eyes got heavy again. The conversation wound down and both of you ended up falling asleep on the couch.

It was only a few nights later when you were walking past his room and heard him tossing. There were groans and cries and small ground out words that made it clear he was having a nightmare. You stood outside his door for a moment, contemplating what you wanted to do. You knew he was right, there was a good chance if you went to wake him up, he’d wake up swinging and attacking. But you quickly realized you couldn’t just let him keep going like that.

So, you entered slowly, for once making as much noise as you can, trying to alert him and wake him. It didn’t work though. You could see him in the dark, twisting underneath his sheets. There was a pillow at the end of his bed and you made a quick decision, picked it up, and threw it at his face. He startled awake, sitting straight up with his fists balled, throwing himself at an unseen threat.

“Bucky, it’s me,” you called to him from the edge of the bed. He was breathing heavy, sweat covering his face.

“Christ,” he cursed, squinting his eyes in the dark. “What are you doing?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you said it as though that explained everything. He ran his hands through his hair. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It was a lie and you both knew it. That night you sat with him on his bed, leaning back on the headboard, arms pressed against each other until you both fell asleep.

It became a pattern, your own little ritual. You’d wake him from his nightmares when you were awake yourself, usually by throwing pillows and keeping your distance. You’d stay up and talk to each other some before falling asleep in his bed. Your body adjusted to waking up in the middle of the night and it wasn’t long before you woke up out of habit and even if he wasn’t having a nightmare, you found yourself waking him and coming into his bed.

It was never anything more than platonic, two friends just taking comfort in each other. You both found you slept much better on the nights you were together. Bucky started waking up before the sun rose each morning, having slept so solidly with you next to him that he didn’t need to sleep any longer. He tried to be quiet and subtle, but you woke every time he got up.

Just like waking up in the night, your body adjusted to waking up early. Now, no matter what time you go to sleep, whether you’re in Bucky’s room or your own, you wake up earlier than normal people ever do.

—

You’ve managed to wash away most of your dream by the time you make it to the kitchen. If you didn’t think about it, you could feel the details of it fading from your memory like dreams usually do. You’ve cooked nearly half of your pancake batter when you hear someone walk in.

“Something smells good.” Bucky’s voice is hoarse, not quite fully awake yet. He sits himself down at the kitchen counter, rubbing his face. “Although I’m starting to think pancakes are the only thing you can make,” he teases. You throw a fake glare over your shoulder.

“Keep up that talk and you won’t get any.” You slip a few pancakes onto a plate you’ve already grabbed from the cabinet. “Maybe you should start making breakfast.” You spin around to hand him the plate and it feels like your breath has been taken from your chest.

He’s looking up at you no differently than he ever has, but your mind flashes back to the face from your dream and it’s all you can see. It’s so crystal clear that he might as well be looking at you like that right now; eyes staring at you with pure lust and heat, an animalist need reflected in his features, teasing and testing you, making your knees weak.

“You okay, doll?” he breaks your thoughts, the friendly term of endearment suddenly making you hot. You realize you’d stopped awkwardly, plate of pancakes hovering in your hand, your eyes simultaneously looking at him and staring at nothing but a picture in your mind.

“Yeah,” you shake your head. “Just not awake yet, I guess.” You finish handing him the plate before quickly turning back to the stove, partly to flip the pancakes and partly so you’d stop looking at him.

“Sleep alright?” he asks as he starts to eat. You nod, exaggerating the motion to make sure he sees it even with your back turned.

“Yeah. Had an… interesting dream, but slept well overall.” You put your spatula down and turn your head to look at him. “Did you sleep okay?” It isn’t unusual for you to spend a full night in your own room, but you always feel bad if he ends up with nightmares on those nights.

“Like a rock.” You can’t quite tell if he’s telling the truth or feeding you a white lie to spare you. He flashes you a smile and for the first time ever, you feel the beginning of a blush spread over your face.

 _Stop that._ You scold yourself internally, turning once more back to the stove. This was silly. There was no reason for you to start going all soft and shy just because of a stupid sex dream. _It’s just Bucky! Your friend!_

You focus your attention on your cooking, the batch you’re working on threatening to burn if you keep letting your mind wander. You hear Bucky stand up and walk over to you, but you keep your eyes on the stove. It startles you when you feel him behind you.

He puts his metal hand on your shoulder, the coolness of it slipping through the fabric of your shirt and creeping into your skin. He presses himself against your back and your heart starts beating faster. You can feel his chest pushing against your other shoulder, can see his face in your peripheral vision coming closer to your cheek.

Parts of your body start to tingle; from your shoulder where his cold hand is still holding you, fingertips dipping towards your collarbone, from your stomach which suddenly feels like it has butterflies, from your face where that blush has come on in full burn. You repress a shiver and shift your eyes to watch him.

His other arm extends past you, reaching out to the bottle of syrup sitting next to the bowl of batter and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. If you didn’t feel stupid before, you sure did now. What the hell did you think he was doing? Seducing you?

You flash him a smile, trying to hide your embarrassment and hoping the red on your cheeks could be attributed to being over the hot plate. He returns the smile softly, but doesn’t move away just yet. Why is he so damn close?

“I take back what I said earlier,” he says, voice almost a whisper. You can feel his breath fan over you and suddenly you’re extremely self-conscious about your morning breath. Seriously, _why is he so damn close?_

“What’s that?” you didn’t mean to sound so breathless, but your throat is dry and you’re lucky you can even get words out. Your eyes are drawn to his and you miss the playful look in them, too preoccupied once again with imagining them a completely different way. His eyes dart down and for just a moment, you think he’s looking at your lips.

“Maybe you can’t cook pancakes.”

“What?” Completely dumbfounded, you realize he isn’t watching your mouth but the pancakes beneath you. Your eyes follow and notice them burning, a smoke just starting to rise up. “Shit!” He chuckles besides you, finally shifting back away from you after giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You scramble to attempt to save them, but it’s too late.

“You sure you slept alright?” he laughs at you as he sits back down, syrup in hand, utterly amused by you.

“Oh, shut up,” you laugh back. You toss a dish towel at him and flip the hot plate off. He catches the towel easily and sets it next to his plate. “I’m going to go take a shower.” You don’t care that you haven’t even eaten yet, you need to get away from him, at least until your head is clear.

“Good idea, probably safer than you burning down the kitchen,” he calls after you.

“Ha, ha!” you reply dryly even though you’re still smiling at him. He shifts his attention down to his plate and you pause for a second before leaving the doorway. It’s not like you’d never noticed he was attractive. It’s just that… you never considered that he’s attractive _to you_. You bite your bottom lip and slip away before your mind goes to a darker, dirtier place.

—

The later it gets into the day, the easier it is to feel back to normal. The ghost of feelings your dreams left you fade off and with everyone else bustling around, there’s a lot more distraction and a lot less alone time with Bucky. Towards the early evening, you and Sam are sitting in front of the TV, Sam blindly flipping through the channels and driving you crazy doing so.

Bucky strolls in and you call out to him, waving your hand to beckon him closer.

“Barnes!” He raises an eyebrow, but follows your call. “Sit down and make Sam pick a damn channel already.”

“It’s not my fault there’s nothing on!” Sam complains, finger almost permanently pressing on the channel up button.

“There’s plenty on,” you argue. “You just don’t see it because it you’re already on the next channel before you can realize it.” Bucky sighs and rolls his eyes. He stalks over to the chair Sam’s seated in and rips the remote from his hand.

“Hey!” Sam cries in protest. Bucky ignores him, walking back over to you and the couch. He sits himself down next to you and flippantly hands you the remote. You happily pluck it from his hand, greatly satisfied with the huffs and grumbles coming out of Sam.

“Thank you!” You smile widely at Bucky who just shakes his head. As you find a show to watch, you can’t help but take notice of how close Bucky is again. You had been sitting on one end of a three-person couch and when he sat down, he didn’t sit on the other end but rather right next to you. You’re not touching, but you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. He leans over, bumping your shoulder with his.

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you can annoy him enough to get him to leave,” he whispers to you. His breath is warm on your ear and you can feel a little burst of butterflies stir in your stomach. Why does he want Sam gone? Does he want to be alone with you? _Knock it off!_

“Well that wouldn’t be very nice now, would it?” Your reply is a little delayed, but at least it sounds normal. Bucky shifts away from you with a slight pout.

“You’re no fun,” he playfully chastises. You smile at him and poke your elbow into his side. He settles into the couch, obviously intending on staying for a while.

You hate how tuned in you are to him now, how every little movement and touch is getting over analyzed. When he relaxes and throws his arm on the back of the couch behind your shoulders, like he’s done dozens of times before, suddenly you’re acutely aware of the way his fingers brush your shirt. When you pull your legs up onto the couch to fold them comfortably underneath you, you feel awkward finding your knee resting on his hip even though he doesn’t seem to notice and you can’t count the number of times you’ve been pressed even closer to his side in his bed.

That god damn dream just won’t flutter away. It’s so easy to ignore when you’re not with him. When you were going about your day, you didn’t even give it a second thought. But now every time he touches you or gets close, all you can think about is how badly your body ached and the way he whispered in your ear.

You chock it up to embarrassment, to not wanting him to know about your dream. It’s a paranoia, like he’s going to be able to read your mind or something every time you think about it and since you keep thinking about it every time he touches you, it makes sense you’re getting nervous. It’s still stupid, but at least you have an excuse.

You decide to push past it. It’s not uncommon for dreams to stick with you for a day or even two. Usually it’s more along the lines of a deep pit of dread after a nightmare, but still, it will fade and things will go back to normal. You’re sure of it.

And it almost does. It’s almost a week later and you’re feeling like yourself again, no longer flashing back to the dream anytime Bucky comes near you. No more absurd questions about his intentions float up into your mind. All is going well. Until it’s suddenly very much not anymore.

—

When you creep into Bucky’s room, it’s very clear he’s having another nightmare. You grab the large pillow he now purposely keeps on a desk chair near the bed and throw it at his torso. For the first time ever, it doesn’t wake him. The feeling of anxiety that used to churn in your gut when you first started waking him suddenly comes back.

“Bucky,” you call out futilely. His fists are balled up in the sheet that’ve been twisted around his body, fleshed knuckles ghost white. Strands of hair are stuck to his face as it contorts in pain and anguish. He thrashes and lets out small, strangled cries. “Bucky!” you try again a little louder.

It pains you to see him like this and that pit of anxiety is making you move without thinking. Against any better judgement, you quickly step up to the side of the bed. You know he’s going to swing, you _know_ he’s going to try to hurt you, but you can’t help it. You need to wake him.

You call out his name once more, much louder, and put your hand on his arm at the same time. His reaction is instantaneous. His eyes shoot open and hands move swiftly through the air to grab at you. You had been prepared for a fist, not for open palms slapping themselves on your shoulders and pulling you forward by your shirt. He uses his legs to help drag you onto the bed and flip you over, pinning your hands over your head with his metal hand and trapping you underneath him within a tangle of twisted sheets.

“Bucky, stop!” you cry out, shocked and slightly scared. His eyes look down on you in a haze, completely empty and seemingly looking through you. He’s breathing heavily, his weight resting on your thighs as he straddles you. He starts to raise his free hand up and ball it. “James!” You’ve never called him that before, but it slips out in a desperate attempt to reach him.

And it works. His fist hovers in the air as his eyes clear. The metal biting into your wrists loosens just a little. You let out a sigh of relief and relax underneath him.

“It’s me,” you whisper to him. “It’s just me.”

“Y/N?” he breathes out, eyes finally clearing of all confusion and really looking at you. “What…” he trails off, taking in the sight of you underneath him, the way one of his hands is holding your wrists and how the other is drawn back poised to strike. “Fuck.” He drops his fist instantly, putting it by your side and using it to lean on and take some of his weight off of you.

“It’s alright,” you tell him, already seeing the panic and the guilt start to fill him. “It’s alright.”

His body sinks down, his chest barely pressing against yours, his head dropping down to your shoulder. A strong string of Romanian curses slips from his mouth. He releases your wrists and goes to pull away, but you grasp at him with your right hand, needing to do something to show him you were okay. He interlocks his fingers with yours and drags it down to rest more comfortably next to your head instead of outstretched over it.

You both take a moment to breathe, to let the adrenaline come down. You grip his hand tightly and turn your head just enough to brush your cheek against the side of his head. He groans and turns so his lips are by your ear.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks. The fear in his voice practically breaks your heart.

“No,” you assure him. “I promise.” You can feel him take a deep breath, feel his chest expand and press down onto your own.

“What were you doing, doll?” His voice is coarse and broken. The hand by your side tentatively slips closer, pressing against the sheets bunched up at your hip.

“The pillow didn’t wake you,” you try to explain, throat suddenly dry. “It must have been bad.”

“Yeah.” He shifts slightly, his pelvis pressing into the tangle of thin fabric between you and his lips brushing your ear as he does, causing a tingling warmth to spread through your body suddenly. It all feels too reminiscent of your dream. “It was bad,” he confirms, making you shake the thoughts. “Real bad.”

“Then I’m glad I woke you.” He lifts his head, looking down at you seriously.

“Don’t do it again.” He means it as a warning, but it comes out as a desperate request. “I don’t want to end up hurting you.”

“I think it turned out pretty alright.” You raise the tone of your voice and throw him a smile to try to lighten the mood. “I mean, I bet there are plenty of girls who wish they could be me right now.” You shimmy your hips and wag your eyebrows at him in an exaggerated attempt to wipe that pain off of his face. He cocks his own eyebrow at you, still not sure he’s ready to joke right now. You decide to give one more push to clear the air. “Not exactly how I ever pictured being under you but…” You shrug and let out a small laugh. His face turns to one of surprise, but recovers quickly.

“Think about me pinning you down often?” he jokes back albeit a little dryly. It throws you off a bit. Sure, you started it, but you didn’t really know how to finish it. Especially when you don’t want to admit the thought had crossed your mind a little too often recently.

“Not… quite what I meant.” You know you’re not really making sense, seeing as how that’s exactly what you meant, but Bucky doesn’t seem to care. He’s watching you intently and his metal thumb is slowly running down the length of your own, your fingers still locked together.  

“Well do me a favor,” he says. You find yourself holding your breath when he leans down ever so slightly for a moment. “The next time you want to get under me, just ask instead.” He leans back, releasing your hand and sitting himself up on his knees. There’s a chill that replaces him and you miss his body heat on you.

“But this was so much more fun,” you tease as you start to stretch your body out. He’s still sitting on your thighs, but you can at least stretch out your upper half and release that tension that had built up in the last few minutes. In the midst of it, you almost miss the way Buck’s eyes watch your body and the way they sink a shade darker.

“Didn’t know you liked it rough, doll.” His voice is coarse and low and for a moment you wonder if you’re actually dreaming again. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, a nervous reaction to the feeling of not knowing what to do.

The silence only extends further and while normally your eyes would be jumping around the room, trying to look anywhere except at the man over you, instead you can’t look away. He’s never looked at you the way he’s looking at you right now and it’s making it hard to breathe.

“Alright,” you say, voice surprisingly clear. You take one of your hands and smack it against his thigh, trying to make it quick and playful enough that you don’t have time to think about the muscle under his skin and how it feels. “Get off of me you big lug.” He cracks a smile at you and the tension seems to break for the time being.

He chuckles as he starts to climb off of you. It takes a minute to detangle both of you from the sheets. It’s more effort than either of you thought it would be, twisting and untwisting, pulling and yanking, trying not to fall over when you stand but finding one of your feet still stuck. It helps things shift back to a normal ambiance.

You both settle back into his bed, leaning back against the head board with the laughs at your clumsiness fading out. You stay up talking for nearly an hour. You only talk briefly about his dream, but his reluctance to tell you much about it has you changing the subject quickly. You know he’ll open up when he’s ready and if he wants to. Until then, you don’t push.

As the night goes on, you notice you’re leaning against his right arm, head resting on his shoulder. You let out a wide yawn, the idea of sleep starting to have a comforting allure. Bucky lets out an amused huff.

“You better not be falling asleep there,” he teases, shaking his shoulder at you, making you lift your head just.

“You make a bad pillow anyways,” you joke, tilting your head back to look up at him. Soft eyes and a small smile look down at you, a lot closer to your own face than you expected. It sends a warmth through you, a heavy comfort that makes it hard to break the stare.

“So, what do you want to do?” he nearly whispers to you. You watch as his eyes sweep over your face and you have to convince yourself the look of admiration you see on him is just your mind playing tricks. “Are you staying here tonight?” There were some nights where after your little midnight visits you went back to your own room, but they were few and far between and he’s never asked you about it before. You think you hear a little bit of hope in his question, but that could just be your sleepy mind distorting reality.

“The long, cold walk to my room doesn’t really sound appealing right now,” you tell him with a smile. His right hand reaches out to rest on your thigh and give it a gentle squeeze. You resist giving into the way you suddenly want to lean and melt into him.

Words don’t need to be spoken as you both pull away from each other and resituate in the bed, crawling under the sheets after fanning them out. Bucky turns out the lights and sleep threatens to wash over you instantly. It only takes few moments to find a comfortable position; laying on your right side, back to Bucky, your arm strewn out underneath your pillow. The tiredness has just about won out when you feel heavy metal slipping along your torso. You startle, body stiffening and eyes opening to see Bucky pause the motion of wrapping his arm around you.

“This okay?” he whispers against your hair. You relax, this time allowing yourself to sink into him.

“Yeah,” you whisper back to him, not sure what else to say. It’s enough for him though and he presses his chest to your back, arm enveloping you and letting his fingers curl around your hip underneath you.

“G’night, doll.” His voice is groggy, sleep having come quickly to him as well. You don’t have to answer, simply let your arm fall over his and press it tighter around you.

—

After that night, everything changes. Your platonic relationship suddenly becomes extremely flirty and you can’t stop the butterflies and the dirty thoughts as much as you try. Bucky’s warm smiles slip into seductive smirks when no one is looking and every once in a while, you catch him staring at you with what you swear is desire.

The images of him in your mind start out tame, simple. You wonder what it would be like to kiss him, to have him lean down in the middle of the night when you’re already so close together and just press his lips to yours. But it’s not long before you’re imagining his hands on you, his body pressing you down into the mattress.

Simple kisses soon become the last thing you think about when he’s near. You think about him slinking up behind you in the kitchen again, but this time it ends with him bending you over the counter. You dream about pushing him down on the couch and riding him, making him come undone beneath you.

You have no idea if Bucky is having similar thoughts or if he’s just having fun. Rumor has it that back before his Winter Soldier days, he was quite the flirt. You tell yourself that he’s probably just letting that part of himself back out, that he’s just that kind of comfortable with you now. So, you follow his lead, never push him further, never say or do anything he doesn’t start first. And you try like hell not to notice that he keeps pushing the boundaries.

—

It’s a Friday night and everyone’s gathered in front of a large TV, a recent tradition for the occupants of the tower. People are peppered throughout the room on the furniture and floor, bowls of popcorn, snacks, and movie candy covering all surfaces available. You’re in the corner loveseat with Bucky, both of you curled up under a shared blanket.

It’s about halfway through whatever action movie the guys picked out for the night when your leg that’s folded up underneath you goes numb. You go readjust, putting your hands down on the couch to lift your body up, but your left hand lands high up on his thigh instead. You let out a short “oomph,” the feeling surprising you. Your arm collapses a little, bending at the elbow and bringing you closer to him.

“Easy there, doll,” he whispers as he grabs your arm to help steady you. “Could give a man the wrong idea.” After getting your legs unfolded, you remove your hand off of him and smirk.

“And what idea would that be?” you ask teasingly, keeping your voice down. He lifts his eyebrows and cocks his head.

“Well, I’ve actually got a couple of ideas.” He doesn’t sound like he’s done, but a loud explosion on the TV interrupts him as the crowd of people you’re in reacts. You lean back away from him as if someone’s going to notice how close you two got.

A few minutes later, you feel his hand under the blanket slowly glide over the middle of your thigh, fingers dipping down to the sensitive skin on your inner leg. You have to force your body not to shiver, his touch sending a fire through you. He feels you tense under his touch and starts to pull back, afraid he’s unwelcome.

Without even thinking about it, your hand darts out to him, halting his retreat. You purposely keep your gaze on the TV as you drag his hand back to your leg and place it just a little higher than he originally had. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him smirking and when he starts to make small circles with his thumb, you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t move his hand other than to lightly squeeze your leg, but your mind wanders horribly. You keep thinking about him dipping his fingers further, about him sliding his hand up to the juncture of your pelvis and his fingertips gently playing with you. You can practically hear his husky voice whispering dirty words in your ear and you have to stop yourself from fidgeting. You can’t even close your legs and rub them together to give yourself some friction because you’d trap his fingers between your thighs and that would just make everything so much worse.

A blush rises up to your cheeks and you brush your hair off of your shoulders, trying to cool yourself down some. You chance a look at Bucky and the bastard is just staring at the TV, the ghost of his smirk still on his lips. He doesn’t miss you looking at him though and his hand inches higher.

God, was he trying to make you combust? You toy with the idea of pushing back at him. You could slip your own hand under the blanket, run it up his leg, maybe put it at just the right spot to brush against his cock. You can imagine his body tensing like he’s been making yours do, imagine being able to feel the twitch in his pants as he takes pleasure in your teasing.

“I’m going to get some more popcorn,” he tells you quietly, taking away the option to act on your musings. You nod a little too quickly and find yourself unable to form words. He removes his hand and tosses the blanket off of his lap. He takes the bowl from the end table, which is practically still full, and tosses a wink over his shoulder at you.

You barely wait for more than a minute before you think, _fuck it_ , and follow him into the kitchen.

“Don’t trust me to use a microwave?” he teases when he sees you enter behind him.

“I wanted a drink,” you defend, immediately going to the fridge to find yourself a soda, pleased with yourself for finding an excuse so smoothly.

“I would have brought you one.” He reaches into a cabinet, finding a packet of popcorn. You briefly wonder how he intends on fitting it into the bowl.

“I didn’t think about it until you left.” You shrug and crack open the tab on the soda can. “And since neither of us are telepaths, I had to come get it myself.”  He starts the microwave as you take a drink and lean back against one of the counters. He crosses his arms over his chest and stays where he is, cocking out his hip and leaning against his own counter across the room.

“Enjoying the movie?” he asks. You give half a shrug.

“Not really paying much attention honestly.” The look on his face says that’s exactly the answer he was hoping for.

“You do seem a little distracted,” he admits, trying to sound sympathetic, but the satisfied and teasing tone wins out in his voice. “Got something on your mind?” You take another drink to buy yourself some time.

“No,” you squeak, mentally kicking yourself for losing that suaveness you had just a moment ago.

“No?” He pushes his hip off the counter and starts walking towards you. “You sure?” You find yourself continuing to drink from your soda, keeping it at chest height as if that’s going to keep him at bay. “I mean, like you said, I’m not a mind reader.” His advances continue, only pausing when he’s standing in front of you. “You have to tell me what you’re thinking.” He glances down at the soda in your hand and slowly reaches out, giving you plenty of time to swat him away if you want. He wraps his hand around yours and guides it to the counter behind you, letting you leave the can there and allowing him to step closer. “So, what are you thinking?” he whispers, his hands coming to your hips.

You wet your lips and open your mouth to answer, but no sound comes out. Your eyes are drawn to his lips, parted and upturned, amused. His fingers curl over your hipbones and it’s so hard not to just throw yourself onto him. Your skin is hot and that blush is burning onto your cheeks, body somewhere between paralyzed and fidgety. He leans down, face only inches away from yours.

“What do you want, doll?” You hold back a groan, the pet name sending a familiar ache right between your legs. Your stomach turns and drops, parts of your body starting to feel numb. He pushes his body forward, pressing it against yours and the pressure of him feeling absolutely enveloping. Your hands finally move, coming to grip at his shoulders. He hums at you, trying to get a response.

“James,” is the only thing you can manage to whisper out; his name slipping out accidentally, instinctively, and hotly. A low growl comes out of his throat and he drops his forehead down onto yours.

“Don’t call me that,” he tells you firmly, fingers digging into you. “Not unless you realize how much I like it.” He turns his hips into you and you let out the smallest gasp when you feel his cock rising against your leg. Your fingers twist in his shirt, the tension in your body needing to be let out somehow.

You’re about to pull him closer, to let this finally happen and succumb to every little feeling you’ve been having when the microwave goes off, beeping loudly into the kitchen. You’d ignore it, say to hell with it and pull Bucky down to you, but you know it won’t stop because the fucking thing is broken. It won’t stop yelling at you until someone opens the door and if you let it keep going, eventually one of the others will walk in.

Bucky’s eyes are dark and he turns his head to glare at the microwave like he wants nothing more than to shoot it. If he had a gun nearby, you might actually encourage it. Instead, you let go of his shirt and he’s gone in an instant to retrieve the popcorn he didn’t even need. You look down at the floor, rubbing at your neck in an attempt to hide your nerves.

“There you two are!” Sam exclaims, walking into the kitchen completely clueless to the tension in the air. “Is that more popcorn?” He approaches Bucky and takes the fresh popcorn from his hands, ignoring the glare he’s getting. “I’ll take that, thanks man.” He pops a couple of pieces in his mouth and gives an exaggerated grin to the man who looks like he wants to rip his head off. You bite your lip not sure if you’re equally frustrated or utterly amused.

“I hate you,” Bucky deadpans, only making Sam grin wider. You grab your soda off the counter, the can feeling extremely cold on your heated skin. You take a breath and make your way towards the door.

“Don’t kill each other, boys!” you throw over your shoulder before exiting.


	2. Part Two

You’ve barely been able to sleep. Mostly you’re just watching the clock, wondering if it’s too soon to sneak into Bucky’s room yet. You know tonight will be different. You’re not going to him with the intent of being friendly. Friendly is long gone. There’s no question about his intentions anymore, no way to mistake his actions in the kitchen as just innocent flirting.

You toss over and look at the clock. It’s only 11:30, but you say screw it and throw off your blanket. It’s earlier than your usual time, but not the earliest you’ve ever gone to him. There had been a couple of rogue nights that you’d be in his bed by 10 so you convince yourself this isn’t too weird or eager.

You walk the halls quietly, acutely aware of any noises nearby. You honestly don’t know if the rest of tower knows about you and Bucky’s friendship and how it unfolds at night, but now you suddenly feel as though it’s a very big secret you need to keep. You even catch yourself looking both ways down the hall before knocking on his door.

Your knuckles rap lightly against it, but as you expected, there’s no answer. There rarely ever is. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves before turning the handle and creeping inside.

Except he’s not there.

Your heart sinks a little and the pit in your stomach twists into a sick rejection. His tableside lamp is on, illuminating enough for you to clearly see his bed, still made from this morning and completely untouched. His bathroom door is open, revealing it to be empty as well. You stand there, staring at the room and feeling oddly out of place in it for a few moments before F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice softly fills the void.

“Mr. Barnes wanted me to inform you he’s in the pool room.”

“The pool room?” You wonder aloud.

“Ground floor.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. clarifies causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, I know where it is,” you whisper at her. Almost no one ever uses the pool room. Mostly it’s just used every once in a blue moon for some kind of training. Why would Bucky have gone there?

As you make your way towards the pool room, you feel ridiculous and exposed. You’re wandering around the tower with bare fee, sleep shorts, and a thin t-shirt. The air conditioning is cold on your skin and you find yourself crossing your arms over your chest, running your hands over yourself while you’re standing in the elevator.

When you make it to the pool room door, you pause and take a deep breath, your nerves having returned. Opening the door causes a waft of the heated air in the room to wash over you, the sudden change in temperature making you shiver.

Bucky hasn’t turned on many of the lights, just some of the softer ones and the ones underneath the water, causing the ripple of the surface to reflect in waves on the ceiling. The water is rippling gently and you can see his body beneath the surface, swimming right in the middle along the length of the main pool.

You’re not sure if he notices you’re there or not, but you keep quiet as you walk up to the edge of the pool. He doesn’t resurface once he reaches the end of the pool, but instead taps the wall and spins himself around to kick off and take off the opposite direction. You sit down, dangling your feet into the water and content to watch him.

Graceful has never been a word that crossed your mind when it came to Bucky. Agile, sure, but never graceful. It just didn’t seem to fit, but now as you watch him swim under the water, see him glide so smoothly, there’s no other word for him.

He finally breaks the surface when he reaches the other wall, taking a deep breath in through his mouth. His metal arm slaps down loudly on the tile, anchoring him down while he slicks back his hair and wipes the water from his eyes.

“Evening, Sarge.” You’ve never called him that before, but it seems like you guys are all about things you haven’t done before lately. When his back stiffens, you worry he doesn’t appreciate it. He turns and flashes you a smile over his shoulder though and your worry fades.

“Hey there, doll,” he greets smoothly. “Been there long?” So he _hadn’t_ noticed you.

“Not at all.” You kick your feet lightly in the water. “What brought you down here tonight?” He turns to you, planting his feet on the floor of the pool and standing up, water almost coming up to his shoulders.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he tells you, starting to wade through the water towards you. “Needed to get up and move around, but didn’t want to go to the training room.” You purposely keep your eyes on his, afraid if they drift down you’ll get too distracted by the way the water level is lowering, revealing his chest.

“Didn’t look like you even tried to sleep.” He’s taking his time approaching you and you can see a shift in his eyes, something a little darker coming through.

“Well I’ve had a lot on my mind recently,” he admits. You swallow a lump that’s forming in your throat. The absolute worst thing in the world right now, the most embarrassing thing that could happen, is if he’s thought about it, thought about you, and ultimately decided it’s a bad idea. The look on his face, the intensity in his eyes, and the way he’s still slinking closer certainly doesn’t look like that’s what he’s going to say, but you can’t help yourself from being doubtful.

It’s Bucky. He’s your friend, maybe even your best friend in some ways. He’s an amazing man full of hidden heart and excitement. Not to mention the man is sexy as hell. You’ve seen him open up, seen him be vulnerable and soft and human. He’s the kind of man who would give his life to protect someone he cares about.

You, though? You’re just you. Why the hell would he be interested in _you_?

The water is down to his waist by the time he’s in front of you. His chest bumps into your knees and he places his hands on the wall by your ass. You’re not really trapped, but you definitely feel cemented down. He tilts his head, biting his lip just slightly.

“What about you?” he asks. “Been thinking about a lot lately?” It takes you a second to find your voice again.

“Not a lot necessarily.” You swallow again and wet your lips, your mouth suddenly very, very dry. “Just… one thing really.” His eyes break away from yours to watch when he brings his hand back from the wall and run his fingers slowly down your thigh.

“And what would that be, doll?” His touch is already making you hot and every little bit of your body is begging you to move, to touch him too, to do something other than simply sit there.

“Pretty sure you’ve pieced it together by now.” Despite his head being tilted down to watch his fingers dancing along your skin, you can still see him smirk as he lets out a small chuckle.

“Well I _believe_ ,” he starts, setting his metal hand on your other leg bringing a stark contrast of cold that does nothing to stop your entire body from burning. “You’ve been thinking about me,” Both of his hands slide down to hold onto your knees. “The same way I’ve been thinking about you.” His words are enough to tighten your chest and turn the butterflies loose, but then he pulls on your knees, spreading your legs apart in front of him. You have to physically bite back a moan, but you can’t help the way your back arches slightly or the way you start quivering.

He moves forward between your legs, sliding his hands back up to rest on your hips, neither of you caring about the pool water on him seeping into your shorts. He drags his eyes up your body to look at you and you can safely say all of your doubts are gone.

Finally moving, you reach out and wrap your arms around his neck, urging him closer. He presses against you as much as he can when you slip your legs around his middle, locking your ankles behind him. You tilt your head down, resting your forehead on his as his hands slip underneath your shirt to roam your back.

“And how exactly have you been thinking about me, James?” you tease, the confidence in your voice surprising you. He chuckles again and shakes his head ever so slightly.

“You know,” he says, pausing to lick his lips. “I thought it was my name that did it for me, but I’m pretty sure you could call me anything and turn me on.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say with a small smile. You can’t quite bring yourself to believe that in full, but it’s a flattering thing to hear nonetheless. Your fingers start to entangle in his wet hair, eliciting a small groan from him. “What happened between us?” you whisper, not sure if you’re really asking or just wondering aloud.

“I don’t know, but I’m not complaining,” he answers smoothly before tilting his head up and capturing you in a kiss.

He surprises you by being soft and gentle about it. His lips gently press against yours, moving slowly as though he’s savoring you. As many times as you imagined it, you’d never thought it would be so soft and sensual and breathtaking. It suddenly feels like _so_ much more than just lust.

He pulls away reluctantly, to give you a chance to breathe and probably a chance to pull away if you so choose. Wanting to make it clear you aren’t going anywhere, you lean down and kiss him this time. You don’t have nearly as much control as he does and your kiss is more frenzied, your hands pulling gently at his hair, ankles urging him even closer to you.

He returns just as hotly, nipping at your bottom lip before his tongue sweeps over it. His hands slip down your body, grab as low on your hips as he can before pulling you forward off the wall’s edge. You gasp when he takes you in his arms and drags you into the water with him, hands shifting underneath your ass to hold you up.

You refuse to break the kiss, your gasp providing the perfect moment for him to slip his tongue into your mouth. You press back at him and let your body slide down to settle your weight more on his hips than his torso. The water covering your bottom half sends goosebumps over your skin and you cling to Bucky to negate the tingles of the slight chill.  

You can feel his dick rising up in his swim trunks, pushing up against your shorts and panties that have molded to your body. He groans when you rock your hips over him, desperate for the friction, the wet material feeling too thick on your body for your liking. He pulls back from your lips and moves to kiss at your neck. With your ankles still locked around him and the water helping to support your weight, he’s able to let go of you a little, dipping his fingers into your waistband and start to tug.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” you manage to get out, forcing your eyes to open and scan the empty room.

“Why?” He licks at your collar bone but pauses the motion of pulling your shorts over your ass.

“Cameras,” is all your voice manages to convey. The whole tower has 24-hour surveillance cameras, not to mention F.R.I.D.A.Y. being everywhere. You really don’t need Tony, or anyone else, rolling through footage and stumbling across you two.

“Not tonight there aren’t,” he whispers against your skin.

“What?” Your mind is fuzzy and it’s hard to focus or make sense of what he’s saying. He pulls back to look at you and you feel the water slowly rising up your body as he drifts you both further into the pool.

“This is one of the only rooms that has the old security system,” he explains. His words are methodic, but his eyes keep drawing to your lips and down your body, clearly not interested in what he’s saying. “I pulled a couple of wires and no more cameras.” You find yourself smirking.

“Pretty confident about tonight, were you?” you tease, enjoying the way his eyes roll a little when you shift your hips on him.

“I was optimistic,” he counters, stumbling over his words when you pull away just so slightly, rubbing your ass against his cock. “And prepared.” His fingers are still in your waistband, fingers clenching the material, waiting for your okay.

“Well c’mon then,” you give it to him, bringing your mouth back to his. There’s a groan of relief from him as he starts to tug again. He can only drag the material as far as your thighs due to you being wrapped around him. He settles for grabbing onto the flesh of your ass, but the kiss gets desperate with teeth and tongues colliding. Your hands move from his hair to his back, fingernails lightly scraping and that’s all that either of you can handle before you’re pushing away from each other, him practically throwing you off so you can both shed clothes.

The water’s up to your shoulders, your thin shirt stuck your body like a second skin. It’s the least of your worries though, your hands plunging under the water to remove your shorts and panties in one swoop. It takes more time and effort than you had wanted and when you’re done, Bucky’s already throwing his trunks out of the pool. They land with a loud squishing plop somewhere by one of the lounge chairs. You chuck your clothes as well as he advances towards you again.

Neither of you can see much of the other’s bodies beneath the water, but both of you seem much more entranced by the sensation of touch instead of sight anyways. His arms snake around your waist and he kisses you again. Your hand immediately reaches down between you to grasp at him.

“Fuck,” he mutters into your mouth, fingers digging into your flesh for just a moment. He twitches at your touch, his cock filling your hand. You simply hold him for a bit, letting your thumb run down the length of him and still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that this time, it’s real.

He keeps his metal hand holding onto your ass, his fleshed one dipping down between your legs. You widen your stance a bit, making it easy for his fingers to find your center. There’s a distinct difference in fluids when he rubs you, your wetness easy to recognize. Your knees go weak and your hand gently squeezes him getting a deep moan out of him.

One of his fingers slips between your folds, gently prodding at your entrance and you force yourself to release him, afraid that your next involuntary squeeze won’t be so gentle. He teases you, running his fingers along you and just barely slipping the tip of his finger in. You hold onto his shoulders like you won’t be able to stand up without him. He brings his mouth to your ear, lips brushing against the shell.

“Something wrong, doll?” he teases you, voice husky and deep. Any words you try to speak get caught in your throat and crushed into broken moans. “You’re so wet,” he growls, cupping you and pressing the heel of his palm onto your clit. You actually feel your legs about to give way on you. Him nipping at your ear isn’t helping.

“Bucky,” you groan. You feel him smirk against the side of your neck as he pushes his middle finger into you. Pleasure courses through you and you grip at his back, holding on tight. He doesn’t thrust like you thought he would, but instead buries his finger far inside out you, managing to just barely brush _that_ spot. Your knees actually do give out this time, but Bucky keeps you supported and chuckles before licking at your neck.

“Do you like that?” He twists his hand to grind his palm over your clit, shooting more pleasure through you. It’s that moment in movies where the girl would throw her head back and cry out for him, but you can’t manage that. You can only drop your head onto his shoulder and gently bite into his skin.

“Yes,” you whisper. His wiggles his finger inside of you, brushing over that spot and you’re nothing but putty in his hands. “Fuck, Bucky.”

He slowly pushes another finger inside of you, gently stretching and filling you. You shut your eyes and moan. His second finger doesn’t quite reach that pleasure spot inside, but it doesn’t matter. Your body is torn between letting him be slow and torturous like he is or to take control and ride his hand. He shifts his palm again and even if you decided you wanted to ride him, you’re not entirely sure you have the strength. He starts thrusting his two fingers in and out of you, languid and deliberate in his motions.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to feel you,” he tells you, his confession hot on your neck. All you can let out is a whimper. Every time he pushes his fingers back in, he hits that spot your fingers have never been long enough to reach and you can already feel your climax building. “You’re so tight.” He moves his fingers a little faster. “I’m going to fuck you so hard after you cum on my hand.”

You try to say something back to him, to return his dirty words, but he thrusts in again and you practically see stars behind your closed eyelids. You bite down on his shoulder again and he sucks on your neck, both of you most likely leaving marks. He speeds up once more and when his palm grinds on your clit in synchrony with him a thrust, you know you’re about to come undone.

“Bucky,” you moan out, not sure if you’re warning him or begging him.

“Cum for me, doll,” he tells you. He gives you another couple of hard, fast strokes before slamming his fingers into you and snapping the coil in your core. Your mouth opens to let out a scream, but the sound is swallowed up by your orgasm. Stronger than any you’ve had before, it wracks your body, both paralyzing it and setting it on fire. Your pussy tightens around his fingers and your hips give a few weak bucks to help ride it out. “That’s right,” he coaxes, slowly withdrawing his fingers from you.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. He slides both arms around your waist, holding you close to him as you recover. Your legs feel tired and jiggly so you start moving them just to make sure you still can. Bucky places soft kisses on the side of your head and chuckles lightly. “You trying to kill a girl?”

“If you didn’t like it…” he says coyly.

“No, no!” You bring your head up from his shoulder and look at him. “I didn’t say that.” Putting your hands on his face, you pull him down for another kiss.

He lets you lead, starting slow and lazy, but picking up heat as you go. Your hands slip back to his hair, giving a gentle tug and again, earning a soft moan from him. You press against him and feel his hard cock pressing back at you.

“C’mere,” you mumble into his mouth before pulling away and taking him by the hand. You start walking backwards towards the pool stairs, the water level lowering enough that your breasts rise up out of the water. His eyes roam over you, clearly enjoying the way your nipples show through the shirt.

You smirk at him when his eyes lift up to meet yours. You give a pull on his hand, ushering him forwards passed you and sit him on the stairs. It’s your turn to step between his legs and turn him into a mess. You kiss him hotly, one of your hands grasping at his dick, starting to stroke gently.

You move your mouth to his ear and whisper to him, “I want to taste you.” He bites back a moan, but he can’t stop the way his cock twitches in your hand. You give him another stroke, thumb gliding over the tip and Bucky tosses his head back, teeth clenching his bottom lip.

You step back just a bit, stopping your strokes but still holding on. You steady yourself and take a deep breath before submerging yourself under the water. Using your hand as an anchor to guide you, you bring your mouth towards his dick. You toy with the idea of opening your eyes, but chemical burnt eyes isn’t something you feel like dealing with at the moment.

Keeping your mouth shut tightly, you bring your lips to the head of his cock. Sucking in as you part your lips lets you keep a tight seal, keeping the water out of your mouth as you slide down his length. You can’t hear him or see him, but he tenses and nearly bucks his hips upwards and you take it as a good sign.

You don’t expect to be able to hold your breath long, so you only give him two slow bobs, using your tongue to tease him, before picking up your pace. You hold onto his thighs to help keep yourself under the water as you suck on him. The muscle is tense and firm under your touch and a little tingle shoots through you at the realization that you wouldn’t mind that thigh between your legs, grinding on it, riding it. You moan around him and his hips jump just slightly.

About the time your lungs start aching for air, you feel his metal hand on your shoulder, urging you upwards. You rise up over the surface and breathe deep, trying not to take an unattractive gasp of air. He lets you wipe the water from your eyes before pulling you close to him.

“That was hotter than it should have been,” he admits between kisses. “Had to stop you before you sent me over the edge.” He grabs your ass, hoisting you up so you can straddle him. You grind your pussy over him, body tingling with excitement again.

“Bucky,” you moan. “Fuck me.”

He lets out a growl before gripping you tight and turning you over. You’re thankful there’s not a prickly non-slip strip on the smooth surface as he sits your ass on the step and pulls you forward, just barely off the edge. Your legs still wrapped around him, his eyes lustfully look down the small space between you two, admiring the curves of your body.

“I won’t last long,” he warns you, the words nothing more than a whisper. You can see him reach down under the rippling water and take hold of himself to line up with you.

“I don’t care,” you tell him honestly. You know you won’t orgasm again even though your body is still wet and craving him. You just want to feel him inside of you, to feel him come undone in your arms.

He presses his cock against you, moves it up and down slowly, teasingly finding your entrance. He kisses you again, swallowing your moan when he starts to push inside of you. Your body offers no resistance as he slides in, only tightens around him. His lips stop moving against yours, the pleasure pausing his kiss.

You can’t help but let out a small whimper once he’s bottomed out in you. His cock fills and stretches you and a part of you can’t believe you’d never wanted this before. You close your eyes, your forehead against his, forcing yourself to breathe. You can feel him start to twitch inside of you.

“Move,” you tell him firmly.

Bucky doesn’t hesitate. He tries to start slow, keeping his chest to yours and drawing back his hips. You cling to his shoulders, his back, his hair, anything you can grab. Both of his hands are on the step by your hips, supporting his weight and keeping his balance as he fucks you. His slow pace doesn’t last very long, the need for more friction, for more pleasure, for more of you is too much.

He moves faster making you moan and dig your nails into him. He shifts his weight into his left hand, bringing his right to your thigh, needing to touch you. Your back arches and you start to move your hips with him. Obscene moans fall from your lips, only egging him on and making him thrust harder.

This time you do let your head fall back and he bows his head to your neck, his breath hot on your skin. You unlock your legs from him, pulling your knees back and wide, opening your hips and letting him sink just a little further into you. He groans and his hips stutter a little, the image of you opening yourself for him turning him on even more.

“Fuck,” he groans into neck. You rake your nails up his back, bringing them to grip at his neck.

“You feel so good,” you tell him, your pussy hot and aching, the pleasure flooding up your body. You squeeze your cunt around him and a low growl escapes his throat.

“I’m close,” he warns, sucking on your neck. You cart a hand through his hair, giving him one more soft tug like you’ve quickly learned he likes.

“Do it,” you moan. You want to feel him cum, feel him twitch and moan and fill you up. “Cum inside me, James.” He pumps his hips harder, faster, desperate to fulfill your request. His fingers dig into your thigh and he whispers your name.

His thrusts sputter once more before he drives himself into you, burying himself as deep as he can and cumming. You both let out low moans, the feel of his climax shooting electricity through both of you. His teeth scrape over your neck and choked sounds of pleasure fall from him as his muscles tense.

You sigh happily as you loosen your grip on him. He’s breathing heavily, coming down from his high. He slowly starts to relax, his fingers straightening out over your thigh and his body slinking down on top of you. You kiss his face and gently stroke your hands over his skin, content to stay there wrapped up in him as long as he wants.

When he does finally look up at you, he’s dazed and smiling. The look is contagious and you find yourself smiling back at him. He kisses you once more, briefly and chastely, before starting to straighten out his body. He withdraws out of you with care, watching you for any signs of you being in pain, but there are none. There’s only the feeling of being empty and his cum leaking out into the water. You’d feel worse about the cleanliness of it if people actually used the pool.

“That was…” he pauses, struggling to find the right word.

“Perfect,” you supply hopefully. He smiles and nods to you.

“Yeah, yeah it was.” He brushes some of your hair away from your face, leaving water dripping down your cheek. “Should have done that sooner.” You laugh at him.

“You should have made a move,” you tell him, leaning back and stretching your body out a little. It’s his turn to chuckle.

“I think it took us both a little while to even consider it,” he admits. He wades through the water, moving back away from you and giving you more space to stretch out.

“How exactly am I going to get back to my room?” you ask, looking around for your shorts. “All my clothes are soaked.” Bucky follows your eyes and smirks a little.

“Why don’t we rinse off and then we can worry about getting you to whichever room you want.”

—

You use the pool showers to clean the chlorine off your skin. They’re connected to the pool room, inside a tiled rectangle with multiple showerheads. It’s meant to imitate a public pool for multiple people to use at once while still in their bathing suit. It feels a little strange and vulnerable to be fully naked inside of it, but you’re not exactly worried about someone unwelcomingly coming in.

You’re using generic bar soap to clean your body and as a makeshift shampoo. You’re washing it out of your hair when you hear the door open. You stop yourself from jumping, knowing it’s just Bucky. You wipe the water and soap from your eyes and look over your shoulder.

He’s standing in the doorway, dressed in just his boxers, hair still wet with his eyes washing over you. It dawns on you it’s the first time he’s actually seeing you naked. Earlier tonight your body was distorted by water and a wet t-shirt. He takes his time letting his eyes drift down your back. Feeling bold, you slowly turn around so you’re facing him.

His eyes watch you, his gaze an admiration coated in lust. You bite your lip and smirk at him, trying to stop the blush that’s trying to rise up onto your cheeks. No one has ever looked at you the way he is right now. It sends a warmth through you and you’re not really sure if it makes you want to jump him or hold him.

“Coming to join me?” you tempt. His lips turn upwards and holds up your clothes in his hand.

“Threw these in a dryer for you,” he tells you. “They’re not completely dry, but I think it’s enough for you to get through the halls at least.” You turn off the shower and reach for the towel hanging nearby. “Although I’m not against keeping you naked.” You have to laugh.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I think I’ll take the clothes.” He watches as you wrap the towel around yourself, taking in your body before it disappears beneath the big, fluffy material. You tie a knot between your breasts and wring out your hair before sauntering up to. “Thanks, Bucky.” You take the clothes from his hand and smile up at him.

His eyes soften and he reaches out to cradle your cheek with his right hand. He pulls you close and brings his lips to yours. The kiss is soft and sweet and you find yourself drowning in him. If you had any fears that this was a one time thing just for sex, the kiss makes it clear he has other intentions.

You sigh happily when he pulls away. You stop yourself from leaning into him, trying not to get him wet any more than he already is even though you know he wouldn’t care. He presses a kiss to your forehead before stepping back.

“You’re welcome back to my room if you want,” he offers, a slight shyness coming out, as if he’s worried you’ll reject the idea.

“I’d like that,” you reassure him, a smile gently tilting his lips. “Let me get dressed and we can head that way?” He nods and swipes his thumb over your cheekbone once more before letting go of you completely.

“Meet me outside.” He disappears out of the showers and leaves to dress in privacy.

It’s hard to keep the smile off your face. A few months ago, hell even a few weeks ago, you never would have thought you’d be here. Now you can’t believe you’d never thought about it before that dream. You quickly put your clothes on and go to meet up with him, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and have him wrap his arms around you.


End file.
